


you are all the colors in one, at full brightness

by acnasa



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Anxiety, Depression, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Suicide, Summer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-31
Updated: 2017-03-31
Packaged: 2018-10-13 04:51:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10506642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acnasa/pseuds/acnasa
Summary: title from all the bright places by jennifer niven.tw.





	

**Author's Note:**

> to say i'm terrified is an understatement

"it's coming," tyler says.

"only a few months," tyler says.

"i'll be gone," tyler says, but his parents don't listen. they're snoring on the couch, heads resting on each other's shoulders.

  
::

  
"it's getting warmer," josh says. "summer's almost here, dude. only a few more months and we're free."

"yeah," tyler agrees, but for a different reason. he and josh have opposing views on the word free.

"jeez, we'll be college students in three months," josh continues. he's oblivious. "isn't that crazy?"

"mmhm."

"it's like... it feels like i was a brand-new freshman just yesterday. 's weird."

"we'll be free in three months," tyler echoes, and then holds his breath and realizes that it's not different than breathing normally.

  
::

  
"they won't miss me," he assures himself. the pills go down easily. "they don't care."

one. two. four. six. ten.

as he sits on the kitchen floor, surrounded by shadows and moonlight, he reads the warnings on the bottle. "may cause internal bleeding," he whispers to himself. "stomach bleeding. huh."

he silently sets the bottle on the counter, then throws up in the sink, gulps down enough water to keep a bear hydrated during hibernation, then shakes for the rest of the night under his blankets.

  
::

  
"i bought a watermelon," his mom comments off-handedly. tyler glances up from his homework and starts counting and stops breathing.

"summer's pretty close, huh?" she adds. "your dad and i were thinking about going to california for vacation. zack and maddie are begging to go to disneyland."

"i won't be able to make it," he says. the lead in his pencil breaks and skitters across the table.

"what was that?"

"sounds cool. let's do it."

  
::

  
the way the sunlight hits the trees. the sound of birds chirping in the morning. the smell of the air. fireworks when the local sports team wins a game.

he counts to ten and tilts his head to look at his ceiling.

playing in kiddy pools. running over freshly-mown grass and laughing. playing tag and running from the tagger.

he moves his blinds out of the way, sets the screen against the wall, climbs out onto his roof, and counts to fifty.

chained into bed. suffocating on sharpie-infused air. splattering paint on white carpet. locking the bathroom door and reaching for the razor. staying up until early morning hours without a heartbeat and words flowing out of his fingers like old faithful.

he slides down the tree and runs down the road until he's far enough away to scream without anyone hearing.

  
::

  
"one month until disneyland!" zack chirps. he giggles when maddie shrieks in excitement.

tyler shuts his eyes, squeezes, then opens them and sees phosphenes. "are we driving?"

"yup! road trip!"

desert hills. music pounding in ears. lukewarm iced tea swishing in a plastic bottle. sobbing with blood-covered fingers. heat saturating, filling up skin. dry lips and metal tongue.

"oh," he says, and at night, he stuffs a shirt in his mouth and screams.

  
::

  
the bell rings. josh whoops and darts out the door, leading the pack. tyler follows, slowly.

the air is warm, and everything is coated in yellow. kids are running to their buses. music is playing.

he must get on his own bus and sit for the hour-long ride, but he doesn't remember it. he must walk up the hill, and he doesn't go to his house. he blinks and he's in the little forest behind the mailboxes, sitting on the branch over the creek, feet in the water. his shoes are soaked.

the neighbor kids walk by a minute later. they're laughing, chatting about college and how crazy their summer is going to be. he follows them down the road, then kicks off his shoes at his front door and trudges inside.

"how was the last day of school, honey?" his mom asks. he grunts noncommittally, drops his backpack on the couch, then goes up to his room.

the door shuts, and it begins.

  
::

  
on july 4th, they bring out the hoard of fireworks they've been saving. family comes over, they eat barbecue. tyler chases his cousins through the trees and runs away from them when they're the tagger. they splash in kiddy pools and breathe in the sweet, warm air.

tyler shakes with each bang, with each shriek of his cousins. this year, he doesn't jump through the colored smoke or wave sparklers through the air. he sits on the grass and watches. josh sits next to him and holds his hand, then kisses his cheek when a mortar goes off and turns the sky into an ocean of gold, cracklings sparks.

when the world is silent, he sits on the roof and begs god to give him his music back.

  
::

  
in august, tyler writes letters.

one to josh, sent with love.

one to his family, telling that that it's both their fault and not.

one to mark. one to brendon. one to all the popular kids (it's only two words).

then he goes downstairs at 4:58 in the morning, grabs bottles out of the cabinet and fills a bottle of water. the alarm is off, so it's easy to creep out the front door. he sits in the middle of the road, swallows his pills, and then lays on the warm pavement.

there's a pebble digging into his back. a bird chirps, then is joined by its friends. the sky turns pink.

tyler sighs and blinks. he can hear a door open down the street, followed by a garage door. it's probably josh, going on one last bike ride before he's shipped off to college.

tyler holds his breath, and he doesn't let it back out.


End file.
